Winifred Hughes
Intervals
How does the apple blossom know
to shape itself within a perfect pentagram,
unfurl blank petals only and always
numbering five, pull apart from the bud
in more directions than the compass allows,
leave the apple to bear a five-pointed star
in its heart. And the daisy opening its eye
unfolds the florets in logarithmic lines
that intersect one another, clockwise
and counter, beading slowly into seed
along the measured intervals of song.
Galaxies unwind from a single node
as our bodies radiate, center to verge:
this is the shape of the world, coiled
helix, blown petals on the grass.
